


Ethical Distraction

by Nellsie



Category: Monster Prom (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Humor, POV Second Person, Pining, very short lived pining but pining nonetheless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 14:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15686874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nellsie/pseuds/Nellsie
Summary: Vera asks Vicky to help her gather some ingredients for a potion. They do that, and hash out some feelings along the way.





	Ethical Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> lmao i wrote this for a friend (@froglovrr on tumblr) a while ago and figured i'd post it.

Vera says, “I want ingredients for a potion,” and you feel like you should probably question that. At the same time, you are _very_ into her and you don’t want to jeopardize that leads to you spending time with her. It’s truly a predicament.

You first settle on, “Okay,” because you are so very attracted to Vera and so very happy to share oxygen with her. It’s only after you look to the side and see Brian shaking his head at your quick answer that you ask, “Why?”

Vera raises a well-shaped eyebrow, “You don’t normally question my actions, Vicky,” she states, flatly, and she’s right. You kind of blindly go along with whatever Vera asks you, because she’s really hot and really smart and kind of terrifying. All of those traits sort of go through the funnel and get added to the can of worms that is your attraction to her.

You say, “I know, uh, I just,” and you glance at the others at your table. Amira raises both eyebrows, like she fully expects you to accept this offer simply on the basis of thirst, which is offensive. You aren’t some one dimensional character driven exclusively by your libido, like the interdimensional prince. You’re a _three_ dimensional character driven exclusively by your libido! Like, uh, Polly?

Vera is talking again. You draw your attention to her.

“If you’re dead set on asking, I need help because my sister doesn’t sell any of the items on my list here,” she hands you her phone and allows you to scroll down the excessive list of ingredients needed for this potion. You see a few that seem easy to get, such as “baby teeth” and “the souls of the damned,” alongside items that are more peculiar, such as “the very concept of melancholy” and “the literal color yellow” and “a successful ketogenic diet.”

You say, “What’s the potion for?”

“My, my, so many questions!” says Vera, “Unfortunately, questions getting answered are the leading cause of worker assassinations. Do you want me to be assassinated, Vicky?”

You say, “No!” very defensively and far too quickly. You’re trying not to be _too_ obvious about having a thing for her, but just obvious enough that if she spontaneously developed feelings for you she’d know it’d be safe to tell you. You know. Because you care. “I’ll help,” you agree.

Vera claps her hands together, “Perfect! We start the search after lunch today. Enjoy your meal with your friends or whatever,” she saunters off. Your friends wait until she’s a safe distance away to start talking.

“I really thought she was going to add _‘it might be your last’_ or some other Disney villain shit,” says Amira.

“Hey, at least she knows who’s most likely to help her out of us,” says Oz, and they all look at you. You hold your hands up as if defending guilt.

“I—wait,” you try to stammer through an explanation of why you totally ditched your dignity in favor of hanging out with a hot girl. You start again, “You don’t understand—”

Oz holds their hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to be quiet. “I’m heading out. Miranda and I are gonna go make merfolk propaganda posters,” they say, “Good luck with Vera or whatever,” they make a peace sign as they stand up and walk out of the cafeteria. What a flake. Anyway.

You start again, “I just, it’s not that I _like_ Vera—”

Amira interrupts you. “Scott wants to play fetch,” she adds no further explanation, “See ya, losers,” and she’s off. You pause as you watch her leave, but no sooner do you turn to Brian.

“I have perfectly reasonable explanations for why I like helping her out,” you say. Brian blinks back at you.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Vic, I’d just rather be with Damien right now,” says Brian, who pushes in his chair before he leaves. What the hell? Have all your friends always been so obsessed with their respective love interests? You’re just about to reconsider your stance on prioritizing romance when Vera sends you a text.

**vera. ❤**  
I’m going to need you to skip 4th period with me.  
s. Vera Oberlin, 12:25.

You think about informing her that she doesn’t need to sign off on or timestamp her own text messages, but you don’t. Instead you sit at your table and anticipate the time you’re going to spend with her.

* * *

The first ingredient on Vera’s list is “the voice of a princess” and so you find the nearest princess. A beautiful, respected lass with the finest hair and the most powerful father in all of the seven seas, who rules over the merfolk with an iron fist.

(Miranda. You find Miranda.)

Vera seems rather unphased by the concept of stealing her friend and classmate’s voice in order to create a potion. She stands and waits for Miranda with you.

“Vicky,” she says, leaning against Miranda’s heavily decorated and gilden locker, “I didn’t see you at prom.”

You raise an eyebrow at that, because Vera doesn’t have much of a reason to care about your antics after prom. You didn’t go with her—not for lack of trying, of course. You did ask.

“Well, uh,” you say, “I ended up going with Brian and Damien. You know, as friends.” As a third wheel, but she doesn’t need to know that.

You expect Vera to react with smug superiority, or maybe pity if she’s feeling particularly off, but instead she doesn’t say anything. She crosses her arms.

“I hope you had fun,” says Vera. You bristle. Genuine well wishes? From Vera? Are you dreaming?

You’re about to pinch yourself—and following that you plan to ask her about the sudden concern—but Miranda appears before you can do either. Vera immediately turns up the charm, which isn’t very hard for her. Her stat in that category is probably really high.

“Miranda, it’s nice to see you,” says Vera, with uncharacteristic kindness. You feel like, had you been Miranda, you would have immediately known something was up, but she seems unknowing and pleasant as always.

Miranda beams, “It’s nice to see _you,_ Vera!” she says, completely unphased by this weird and uncanny show of good faith from Vera. “What brings you to my locker?”

“Oh, nothing much,” says Vera, and she does a very obviously fake gasp, “Though I must say, the solid gold that your locker is made from is really lovely and not tacky at all! I admire your sense of style.”

“You’re too kind!” says Miranda, “Oh, I always knew we would be grand friends someday, Vera! Of course, I had assumed it would take a fair amount of brainwashing to make you consider the possibility, but still! It’s nice to know you took our friendship into your own hands.”

You wonder if naivete is a valued trait among merfolk, which would make sense given Miranda’s actions and character and entire personality. However, you kind of realize she literally hinted at the idea of brainwashing Vera into being her friend, so maybe it’s less naivete and more willful stupidity.

Vera doesn’t let this very suspicious statement bother her, and instead continues in her obvious manipulation of Miranda’s ignorance. “I, personally, only came to see my dearest friend. My _associate,_ however,” Vera places her hands on your shoulders and moves you in front of her, “would like to make a deal with you.”

“I, uh, _what?”_ you turn to face Vera, who raises her eyebrows at you in a way that makes you fear the concept of disappointing her. You turn back to Miranda. “Oh, uh, yeah. Vera’s right. I need a favor.”

You must _really_ like Vera.

Despite your quiet speculation of Miranda’s intelligence, you really don’t want to end up on her bad side. Still, Vera probably knows what she’s doing. Hopefully.

Miranda looks at you with intrigue, “What sort of favor?” she asks.

“Your voice,” you blurt, before quickly amending, “Uh, I’ll return it, you know. I just need to use it for a…” you glance back at Vera. She narrows her eyes at you. You turn back to Miranda. “Science project?”

Miranda hums contemplatively. “A science project,” she says, “I suppose that _is_ a rather important subject for people who can’t hire serfs to do their work for them.”

“Yeah! It is!” you insist, “And, uh, I’ll probably get a bunch of money for completing this project, which I can split with you.”

Miranda gasps, “I never knew that completing school projects were rewarded with monetary compensation!” she says, “I should probably start attending my classes, if that’s the case.”

There’s a moment of silence where you think she might be getting suspicious of your obvious lie, and you can feel yourself beginning to sweat. If Miranda kills you she definitely gets diplomatic immunity, and if you die you’ll never be able to do shady shit with Vera ever again. Oh God, you haven’t even written a will.

Miranda starts laughing, and you are promptly split away from your spiral of anxiety.

“I’m joking. As if I would actually attend class when I have people to do that for me,” she snorts.

“Oh,  yeah,” you say, and you nervously chuckle with her.

Miranda has to wipe a tear from her eye, which is weird. That joke wasn’t that funny and you aren’t sure if fish cry. She says, “I suppose I’ll donate my lovely voice to your cause.”

“—Perfect!” interjects Vera, who steps in front of you. She holds out a very convenient amulet. “I’ve already set up very coincidental spells for this occasion. If you would just sing into this amulet, please,” she requests, and Miranda sings a very sweet song about a genocide committed by the merfolk long ago. You decide not to think about it too much.

The amulet is glowing by the time she’s done, and Vera takes it and puts it on. It’s a little bright for your taste, but it looks good on her. Miranda attempts to say goodbye when you leave, before realizing that giving away her voice has rendered her mute. She instead settles for silently waving at you.

As you walk away, Vera slinks an arm around your shoulders. “A perfect start,” she says, “I would have preferred you avoid the promise of money, since I’m certainly not going to give her any, but a success nonetheless.”

You kind of register that sentence, but mostly you register the fact that her arm is over your shoulder and she isn’t physically repulsed by the idea of touching you. Holy shit.

* * *

You and Vera skip your next few periods to continue gathering ingredients for this weirdly complicated potion. You get the souls of the damned in a bet with Damien, the concept of melancholy from Liam, who says it isn’t much of a stretch considering he has transformed into a general feeling of unease at one point, and you get the successful ketogenic diet from Polly, who has never eaten and thus doesn’t eat carbs.

At one point, after you’ve bought the baby teeth from a very suspicious dealer outside your school who suggested you snort them, you take a short break.

You stay outside, in the area where the daily rave usually takes place. You sit on a bench together. Vera sits up straight, and you stare at her for a moment. She’s attractive, but you try to compartmentalize that attractiveness. You try to understand _why_ you find her attractive.

There’s certainly the physical part. She’s objectively hot, with an elegant way of carrying herself and a confident demeanor. Her eyes are observant, calculating. She has high, defined cheekbones and lips that are nice to stare at. Physically, she’s kind of a sight to behold.

And beyond the physical, she’s also deeply intelligent and business minded. She’s well informed and political, and she’s _ambitious._ She’s so ambitious and so willing to go after what she wants.

(You hope that she could want you, eventually.)

You say, “Why didn’t you go to prom with me?” and immediately regret it. Thinking out loud is such bullshit. You amend, “Nevermind—”

She cuts you off, “I kind of went with my gut,” she says, and she carefully examines your face for a reaction. “You could say that I’m not exactly _used_ to feelings, mostly because I spend my time ignoring all of the ones that are inconvenient.”

“I see,” you say. You don’t really know where to go from there.

Vera hums, “You can be quite the distraction, Vicky,” she says, and you really don’t know how to process that.

“Oh,” you say, _“oh.”_

She smiles. It’s so nice to see her smile, and extremely unexpected. She seems _proud_ when she looks at you, which makes your heart skip several consecutive beats. You’re really lucky that you happen to be a collection of reanimated corpses.

“Distractions aren’t ideal for me,” she says, “Neither is the insinuation that I have feelings, or that I care about others, _but,”_ she glances at you, and you feel warm and delighted and confused all at once. “My feelings for you are complicated.”

“Complicated,”  you echo.

“Very,” she says, “Because, contrary to what I would like, I do care about you.”

She cares about you! Holy shit!

She scratches the back of her neck, “Well, uh, this is awkward,” she says.

“It isn’t awkward!” you say, _way_ too quickly, “It’s, uh, kinda romantic,  you know?”

“Romantic,” Vera tests out the word, “I see.”

She seems to think over the concept, and slowly she lifts a hand to your cheek and tilts your head up a bit. She kisses you.

The kiss is curious, at first, as if she’s just testing the waters. It quickly manages to become more serious as she gets more involved, leaning into the kiss and running one of her hands through your hair. You return with equal interest, and maybe a bit of excitement. Okay, a lot of excitement.

She pulls away after a while, “That was satisfactory,” she says, and she smiles when she looks at you. “Okay, more than satisfactory.”

You could come up with a few more ways to describe it, like awesome, fantastic, amazing, etcetera.

Despite your increasingly sappy and romantic thoughts, and the fact that your heart feels like its swelling in your chest, you manage to have one coherent question.

“What was the potion for?”

“Oh, that shit?” says Vera, “it’s a scam for the sake of hanging out with you. I was mostly planning to sell all of it, but I am using the baby teeth to supply a small dentistry.”

“Is that also a scam?”

“Oh yeah,” she says, and she is doubly satisfied with herself. You kind of swell with pride, because she may be a cold-hearted capitalist with blood on her hands, but she’s _your_ cold-hearted capitalist with blood on her hands.

**Author's Note:**

> i know its not very #deep or eventful but it was fun to write and i like cute things.


End file.
